Smokey and the Bandit story 1: Clam Chowder bet
by Bandit Darville
Summary: this is the little story of how the Clam Chowder bet went along. You know, the one you SHOULD'VE seen in Smokey and the Bandit II? Anyways, just stick around for the ride of the Bandit!
1. Chapter 1

Smokey and the Bandit

**How the Clam Chowder bet came through**

Chapter 1

It was 1977 when a man named Big Enos Burdette and his son Little Enos bet a hotshot named Bo Darville to run up to Texarkana, Texas with his pal Cledus Snow to make an $80,000 illegal beer run back to Atlanta, Georgia in 28 hours. It was a treacherous run, and at the end of it all; Big and Little Enos bet double or nothing to go to Boston to pick up some clam chowder, only in 18 hours this time. This tale is called Smokey and the Bandit. What happened to the clam chowder run that should've been in Smokey and the Bandit II? Here's the story….

Well, hello there. My name is Bandit Darville. You're probably wondering why I'm talking to you this very minute, well you can stop wondering. I'm just here to tell you about a double or nothin' run to Boston that me and my two colleagues Cledus and Carrie made in 18 hours flat. Well, here I go. We were just exiting the fairgrounds with Sheriff Buford T. Justice of Texas himself hot on our tail. Of course, he didn't get very far since his car was beat to heck. We lost him but shortly after he switched vehicles, he was on our tail once more. I wasn't going to outrun him in this thing. This Cadillac is built for beauty, not speed. We pulled over up ahead and switched our rides. I picked up a 1978 Trans Am Special Edition from a used car lot, and we were on our way again.

"Hey uh, Bandit? Mind if I ask a little bitty question?" Asked Cledus. I replied yes, and it wasn't as "little bitty" as I thought. This question threw off the whole plan of retrieving the chowder.

"How much clam chowder are we supposed to pick up for these dudes?" He asked curiously.

I realized this big old boat had a car phone in it. Boat is another word for a long car like a Cadillac. I called up the boys, and they kindly accepted my call without any hassle.

"Daddy, I knew we shouldn't have made that bet with that Mr. Bandit sum bitch! I knew he would start asking questions. What if he calls off the whole bet?" The shrimp, Little Enos, said anxiously.

"Don't worry, son. I got it all planned out." He exclaimed, as he talked into the phone to me again.

"Mr. Bandit; you are required to pick up 2,000 pounds of clam chowder to bring back to me and my son here…unless you're just a little bit _chicken_!"

The word "chicken" struck me as "oh well you're too stupid and ugly to do anything", which is what "chicken" to Big Enos means. I told him off over the phone, angrily. He just hesitated to say another word, hung up the phone, and laughed to his little "fun-sized" son. I then knew what we had to do. We had to buy ourselves a new rig. How would that work? We barely had the money for a Trans Am; I had to sell off the Enos's car.

"Hey Cledus, how are we goin' to afford a rig? We barely had enough for the…..whoa! Look over there, son!"

There it was, a free 18 Wheeler on the side of the road. It was a blue Peterbilt 359 with an extended cab and a blue trailer. It was gorgeous. We accepted it, and found an old CB radio that we cleaned up, and the Bandit and the Snowman were back business!


	2. Chapter 2

Smokey and the Bandit

**How the Clam Chowder bet came through**

Chapter 2

We had another problem coming. The tires on the rig were dead flat. I could pump them full of air, but it would take some time. And guess who was speeding down the road right this very instant? You got it, Buford T. Justice. Buford was one of the meanest sheriff's in the state of Texas, and now almost the whole country. It was definitely possible to see why we were in deep trouble, and I mean it…._deep_ trouble.

"Hey Cledus. We got us a Smokey headed toward us. We can't hide this rig, or hide behind it. I'm gonna go see if I can play cat and mouse with the boy, and see if I can buy us some time and buy his attention. I'll be right back, so hang tight good buddy."

"Ok Bandit, I hear you. Just raise me on the CB if you need any help. I'll stay with frog and change these sum bitch tires."

And after that, I jumped in the Trans Am and hit the gas. A cloud of dust and smoke filled the air. The car jumped forward, and took off like rocket. Within minutes, I was in Buford's sight. I had that old dog twistin' and turnin' through streets, up and down back alleys, and around the block in circles a couple of times. I hit the e-brake, and slammed the Trans Am into a couple of empty milk crates, creating a diversion for Buford and having him take his eyes off the road. Doing so, a few results came out of it.

"Daddy, what's that up ahead?"

"Oh my goodness Junior, we gonna hit those……" and then silence. Well, silence until a loud crash at least. Then Buford loudly cried, "**Junior you sum bitch!** **You distracted me! You moose twit! I'm gonna have yo ass on a platter for breakfast!"**

So there Buford goes, into the crates and off the road. He got his back bumper stuck on the guardrail. I sped back to Cledus waiting at the truck, all fueled and waiting to go. Time was running out, and we haven't even made it on the road yet. It was a long harsh drive to the next state from Georgia, which was South Carolina. Dodging police and roadblocks was just the least of it, too. I got one Smokey behind me, and one Evil Knievel on the side of me. The motorcycle on the side of my car was just getting a little too close for comfort.

"Snowman, I need you, son! Come on back, over?" I radioed on the CB.

"This here's the Snowman! Bandit, what's your 20, over?"

"Well those bears are wall to wall on me, and I need some help. Can you block 'em for me?"

"Bandit, you're a crazy boy, son. Don't you know that I ain't supposed to block for you, you're supposed to block for the truck…..me! Ha ha ha; right on you, Bandit. I'll see what I can do!" Snowman yelled into the CB.

I stepped on the gas a lot harder now, almost pulling away from the police. The car backed off a little, but the bike kept coming. Then I heard a loud blast from behind me. I saw a massive blue wall move up on the right side of me. I was boxed in. I have a motorcycle Smokey on the left, and the one "Snowman" on the right. I finally had recognition of the plan put into action. The truck slammed into me, right as I hit the brakes real hard. The truck went right into the motorcycle cop, who then took a wrong turn onto a train track, and crashed at the bottom of a ditch. The car was still coming up fast, and if nothing was done right now it was going to stay that was for a long time.


End file.
